


The World Spins Madly On

by pocky_slash



Category: Torchwood
Genre: Canonical Character Death, Gen, Grief/Mourning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-12-16
Updated: 2010-12-16
Packaged: 2017-11-04 12:06:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,785
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/393658
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pocky_slash/pseuds/pocky_slash
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Gwen rages and grieves and tries to keep going.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The World Spins Madly On

**Author's Note:**

> This is probably the only COE-compliant fic I will ever write. It was difficult for a couple of reasons I won't trouble you with. I won't blame you if you don't read it. I like to think that [](http://solsticezero.livejournal.com/profile)[**solsticezero**](http://solsticezero.livejournal.com/) turned it from a self-indulgent, bitter rant into something worth reading. I stole a very significant plot element from Derek Landy. If you haven't read his _Skulduggery Pleasant_ books, you should.

"Okay," Gwen says, shifting in the hard plastic chair at the head of their temporary conference table. "We'll send Lois to meet with UNIT over those results since Martha is persona non grata, Mickey can't be arsed, and I might kill them. Next?"

She dearly hopes there's nothing next, that their alerts haven't gone off, that there's nothing odd on the radar, that Andy doesn't call with something strange for them to investigate. Gwen hasn't slept properly in days with all the kicking and rolling around from the baby. She's wrung out and it's been a long three weeks of assembling her team, finding a new headquarters, asserting her presence. It's not been easy, but she's done it all on her own. While she knows that's something to be proud of, at the end of the day, all she can feel is resentment.

She shouldn't be doing this on her own in the first place.

"I have something," Martha says. She says it without looking at Gwen, so Gwen knows exactly what it's about. The baby kicks in agreement.

"Martha," she starts to say, but stops. She doesn't know what to say, how else to explain that the hero that Martha still holds on a bit of a pedestal is nothing more than a cowardly fraud.

"I can call the Doctor," Martha says, looking up. "I'm sure he can find--"

"It doesn't matter, Martha," Gwen says, closing her eyes. "He's made it clear where he does and doesn't want to be."

"But--"

Gwen doesn't quite slam her palms down onto the table, but they land hard enough to make a noise. It makes Mickey jump.

"None of us are contacting Jack," she says. "Jack will come back if he bloody wants to come back, but I wouldn't hold my breath if I were you." She gathers her files and gets to her feet, stumbling a bit, still not used to the extra weight.

"I'll be in my office if you need me," she says. She leaves without looking back. Not because she doesn't want to see them, but because her focus is on something else.

She closes the door to her office, drops the pile of files on her desk, and pulls open the center drawer of her temporary desk hard enough that the little velvet bag in the back corner rolls all the way forward. She stares at it for a long time before opening it and sliding the bright blue gemstone into her palm.

She tries not to do this. She knows it's a crutch, that it's just going to make things worse, more painful in the long run.

She can't stop, though. Some days, it feels like it's all she has left.

Gwen presses her thumb onto the stone and then places it on the desk.

"I've stopped looking for him," she says abruptly. "He's gone and there's nothing I can do about it. I need to focus on other things." She doesn't look up, staring instead at the piles of papers on the desk. She knows she should look, should drink in as much as she can while she still can. Still, it's hard to look him in the eye and tell him this. If it was up to him, they'd still be looking.

"I can't fault you," Ianto says. "I'd have done the same thing."

"If you were still here, he'd never have left," Gwen says. She looks up, finally. She knows it's true, even if Ianto denies it every time. Jack loved her, sure, but not the way he loved Ianto. Not any more or any less, just differently. She can accept that, just like she's accepted that he would have stayed for Ianto when he couldn't stay for her.

Accepting it doesn't mean she has to like it.

"You shouldn't be worried about him," Ianto chides. He's leaning against the wall, or as close to leaning as he can, and straightens up to cross the short distance to her desk. "You should be more worried about _you_. You're going to pop any day now. You can't leave it all on Martha and Mickey and Lois forever. You need to start making plans."

"Plans," Gwen snorts. And isn't that so _Ianto_? Stuck in a world without Jack where she's bloody pregnant and he doesn't properly exist and he's worried about making sure everything's in order. "Retire. Take my pension and Jack's, too, for good measure."

"You say that, but you know you'd never be able to actually stand by while other people save the world," he says. She laughs sadly and just stares at him, memorizing him. The image in front of her seems as solid as Ianto ever was. He's wearing a pinstriped suit, a burgundy shirt, and a purple tie. He looks so young, even though the image can't be more than two years old. She feels like she's aged ten years in the past six months.

"Gwen," he says softly, and he raises his hand as if to touch her cheek, stopping before his hand can go through her. Gwen swallows a sniffle, the wet feeling of tears in her throat.

"It's not fair," she says. "It's not fair that he gets to fuck off to the stars and leave us with this mess. He fucked up. Well who's bloody surprised by that? He fucks up all the time! I'm sorry he lost his grandson, but he's hardly the only person who was suffering! He lost you? Well, I lost you too! I lost you and then I lost him and thank _god_ for Rhys, because otherwise--otherwise...."

"It's okay," Ianto says. "I know."

"You don't!" Gwen shouts. "You're dead!"

Gwen snaps her mouth shut, her heart thudding loudly in her chest as she listens for any sign that Mickey and Martha and Lois have heard her. The distant bustle of the main room of their temporary headquarters doesn't stop, so she breathes a sigh of relief and looks up at Ianto, who's smiling sadly.

"I know," he says. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be sorry," she says, tears in her eyes. "It was a bloody stupid plan. But you were right there behind him. You always were. He took that for granted."

"He took a lot for granted," Ianto agrees.

She didn't want to do this. She doesn't know how much time she has with this echo of Ianto, doesn't know how long it will be until the smooth blue gemstone stops glowing, until she can't recall this nearly-perfect hologram with just the firm press of her thumb. She's not sure where the stone came from or how it works, only that it seems to have recorded Ianto's likeness, his feelings, his personality. It's almost like having him back, but she doesn't know when it will stop, when she'll lose him again, and for good this time. She doesn't want to spend this time talking about Jack. She wants to tell Ianto she loves him and remember the good times, but instead he's become a sounding board for the frustrations she can't express to her distant, fractured team.

"I miss you so much," she says. "And it's just... he's so fucking selfish. Like he's the only one who lost someone. Like he..." She trails off on a sob. She's past this. She has to be. It's been seven months and she has a team to lead. She's going to have a baby practically any day now. It must be the hormones.

"For a time traveller from another planet, he was never very good at seeing the big picture," Ianto says wryly. He sits--or, well, hovers over a chair and catches her eye. "I won't apologize for him. I wouldn't have even when I was alive, of that I'm sure. But I will remind you that you can be better than this. Better than him. You can still help people. You were always better at it than he was, and by now you're just jaded enough to make the hard decisions as well. You're going to be brilliant, Gwen."

Gwen wipes the tears from her eyes and blinks against the pressure to make more when she remembers that she can't hug Ianto, will never be able to hug him again. The grief is fresh and sharp all over again and she wonders if this little stone she found in the rubble of the tourist office isn't a curse rather than a blessing.

"Thanks," she says quietly. "I'm sorry. Every time I bring you out I seem to yell, don't I?"

"You're allowed to grieve for him," Ianto says gently. "You're allowed to grieve for me."

"I know, sweetheart," she says. "I wish I didn't have to."

They sit in silence for a moment, before Ianto clears his throat.

"Until next time?" he asks.

She doesn't know how many next times there will be. The blue is a bit dimmer now than it was when she first found the gemstone, the size of a golf ball and wedged in the debris of the tourist office right next to some tacky keychains. Ianto claims he doesn't know how much power the little artifact has in it. Gwen never could tell when he was lying about things like that.

She knows, also, that she's holding the key to finding Jack again in her palm. She knows that if Jack knew of the existence of this hologram that looks and talks and thinks just like Ianto did, Jack would stick around as long as the power held out.

She didn't tell him. She never will. Jack raided Ianto's flat before he left the planet, leaving Gwen with nothing but this pretty rock. She deserves to mourn too.

"Sure," she says, wiping her eyes again. "Until next time. I loved you so much. I always will. You were my best friend."

She tells him every time. She didn't tell him nearly often enough when he was alive.

"I loved you too, Gwen," he assures her. He smiles at her and she hopes she's imagining that he looks just a bit dimmer than he did at the start.

"Bye, Ianto," she says, and taps the gemstone again. His image flickers out and disappears.

She tucks the stone back into the velvet bag and stows it in the drawer. She takes a deep breath, glances into the reflection on her computer screen to make sure her make-up isn't too smeared, and gets to her feet, wobbling only slightly as the baby reminds her it's been an age since she saw the inside of the loo. She takes another breath and heads for the door.

She has a team to lead. She can grieve later.


End file.
